


Gymnophoria

by Desdimonda



Series: Broken Steps on the Broken Isles - Drabbles and vignettes about Maiev, Illidan and their relationship beneath the shadow of the Legion's invasion on Azeroth and beyond. [7]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: F/M, Mentally undressing, One Shot, Pre-Relationship, Sexual Tension, Undressing with ones eyes, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 02:43:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10777830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desdimonda/pseuds/Desdimonda
Summary: I wrote this from the following prompt from a lovely anon on tumblr:Gymnophoria - The sensation that someone is mentally undressing you.





	Gymnophoria

“ _Lower_ , Issari,” said Illidan as he stood with blunted glaives poised before his breathless Slayer, a sheen of sweat shimmering her pale skin, making her intricate purple tattoos, glow. “Use your height to it’s advantage. People will underestimate you.”

Issari snorted a laugh, twisting, as she swiped a glaive against his knee. “Catch up, Illidan,” she said with a triumphant smile as she caught him again on the thigh. “They already do.”

Jumping back, Illidan smiled at his Slayer, watching the vibrancy of her aura move quicker as her confidence grew - just as he wanted.

“Then manipulate it - _use it_.”

Illidan lifted a glaive to catch a renewed assault from Issari, but he faltered, just a little, just enough, pulled away by a presence; by a moment - fleeting.

The tip of Issari’s glaive caught his shoulder, and he hissed, pushing her back, hearing her trill of a laugh. “Got you.”

He moved, joining in their dance, renewing his steps, when he felt it again.

That moment, that presence, washing over him like a swathe of moonlight, like a novice’s brush of arcane - new, untouched, _alive_.

Illidan felt bared, like he had just stepped from the lake, droplets of water falling down his body, tracing every edge, every jut of muscle, scar, scale. But it wasn’t water that glided over his body, as if seeing him for the first time - for the last - pushing away the demon, and seeing the elf, _he still was_.

It wasn’t something, but someone.

It wasn’t someone, but _her_.

He moved; parrying, stepping, hitting glaive to glaive, so conscious of her eyes that watched, that waited, that _wanted_.

Turning, his wings flaring out to steady his balance, Illidan felt her step closer, and he could almost envision her from the ebb and flow of her presence alone. Twisting, winding, ebony hair swayed with each motion, each step, and he felt a ghost of her hand slide through the strands, pulling free his high tail, letting it fall, free.

Staggering back as Issari pushed against him, Illidan jumped back and lowered his glaives to catch his breath. 

“That will do for today, Issari,” he said, hoisting the glaives onto the stand nearby, hearing a small sigh from his Slayer. 

“Tomorrow?” she asked, nudging him with a soft hip. 

Illidan just nodded, giving her shoulder a squeeze as she turned and left, falling into step with Kor’vas.

“What do you want, Maiev,” he asked, turning at last to face her, his breath, hitching, as his spectral sigh etched her outline, line by line. 

“Khadgar wants us. Now,” she said, her words quiet, falling with a tremor as if she pushed, pushed something away.

He stepped closer, watching as she formed before him, the bright lines of her aura, shifting, twisting, accentuating the tilt of her ears, flattening, as she looked up, up at him.

“Is that all?” he asked, voice low - a husk - the breeze whipping his hair, brushing it against her arm.

Maiev lifted her hand, catching the ends of his hair, gently twisting them between her fingers, letting the silky strands slip, slip through her hands.

She smiled, then walked away.


End file.
